


you're stuck on me

by timber (calculus)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M, Gen, Past Relationship(s), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 12:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5627050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/pseuds/timber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kim Jungdae has a hard life.</p>
<p>Or, the loose Coffee Prince fusion no one asked for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're stuck on me

_Episode Five:_ **The Fifth Cup**

* * *

The sun’s starting to set already, but it’s still high enough that the damp strands of Jungdae’s hair stick to the nape of her neck. She huffs, an exaggerated gust of air that sends her choppy bangs floating in the air for a second, and scratches at her arm, a nervous tic.

Jungdae sits on the curb, a few streets away from the jjimjilbang, silently adjusting the floppy bra-strap on her shoulder, while Tao sits next to her, a few more centimeters in between them today than would’ve been usually. He steals hesitant glances at her every few minutes, which Jungdae finds hard to ignore, even from the corner of her eye, but most of his attention is on Jongyeon, who sits right next to Jungdae, happily gnawing at a fried drumstick, a Tupperware container of more fried chicken settled evenly on her lap.

It’s hard to decide where to begin, and frankly, Jungdae just wants to drag her sister home and pretend this never happened so she can wake up tomorrow without feeling like she’ll be heading off to her own funeral at work. Sadly, no matter how much her brain cells push, time won’t budge, and they remain staunchly here on the curb, in present time, minutes after Tao surprised them both in front of the jjimjilbang. She sighs, heavy and burdened, and ignores the way Tao snaps his eyes back to her form worriedly, instead choosing to work her frustration out on her still-damp hair. She scrubs roughly through her follicles, digging blunt nails into her scalp, a half-hearted hope that if she does it hard enough, she’ll wake up from what is clearly a nightmare.

Tao looks like he’s about to cry, though, despite Jongyeon’s presence (and really, Jongyeon’s already too lost in her own little world to notice), and Jungdae breaks the silence hastily when she catches his lip quivering.

“Please don’t cry, Tao, oh my god, why are you crying,” she blurts out, gingerly reaching out a hand and patting gently on his shoulder. Tao sniffs loudly, eyes already prickled with tears, and roughly rubs them away with the back of his hand, uncaring of the spiked rings adorning his fingers.

“I’m just—I’m sorry, hyung—I mean, noona—I didn’t—I didn’t mean to find out about your secret, I’m sorry,” he says softly, stumbling over his words. “I just wanted to surprise Jongyeon with some food after the math test she’d failed last week, I swear, I wasn’t trying to pry or anything!”

Jungdae can’t help but smile at his earnest apology, but then frowns when she hears about Jongyeon’s bombed exam. She opens her mouth, but closes it again. She’ll scold her at home.

“Taozi, it’s alright,” she says soothingly, hand now reassuringly rubbing Tao’s back, hoping the affectionate nickname will calm him down. “I’m not mad at you.”

“But, your secret!” he says, huddling further into himself, knocking his knees together. Jongyeon looks up, half-eaten chicken wing still in her mouth, and frowns.

“Oppa, don’t worry about it so much. She was gonna get caught sooner or later anyway,” she says flatly through a mouthful of chicken. “It’s unni’s fault for even trying to go through this ruse in the first place.”

“Shut up, brat, eat your chicken,” Jungdae mutters, giving her sister the evil eye. Jongyeon sniffs, but obliges, placing down a clean carcass for a meaty drumstick. “But it’s true, Tao, I would’ve been caught sooner or later....” She trails off.

Tao furrows his brows. “What?”

Jungdae sighs, and turns to face the boy fully, paying no mind to the dirt smears that are probably getting on her clean clothes. “I want to keep working at Coffee Prince. I like it there; I feel like I’m worth something. But, I don’t know how Baekhyun’ll take it if he finds out I’m actually a girl, so.” She bites her lip, scrunching up her face accordingly. “Will you please keep this a secret? Please?”

Tao nods furiously, grabbing her hands and clutching them. “Anything, noona! I would never betray you!”

Jungdae forces a smile out, and a genuine sigh of relief slips through. “Thank you so much.”

* * *

Jungdae wakes up extra early the next day, groggily slamming her blaring alarm off and gives herself another minute to snuggle into her pillow before Jongyeon, still deep in sleep next to her, tosses a leg over her waist and knocks the air out of her chest. Jungdae groans and burrows her face into the pillow covering before forcing herself up, pushing away Jongyeon’s limbs.

Friday runs are the least involved of her weekday runs around the neighborhood, with only milk and newspaper deliveries to be done, but recently, Fridays also meant that she could spend the last leg of her deliveries over at Chanyeol-ahjussi’s house if she finished early. Of course, to finish early meant that Jungdae would have to wake up even earlier to do her deliveries, and so.

She stumbles to the bathroom downstairs, clumsily trying to keep her steps light so their mother wouldn’t wake up from the room over, and quickly goes through her morning routine. She slips back out and runs upstairs to jam on a fresh set of clothes, a tank hoodie and some old khakis that Changmin-ahjussi had brought over as a gift from his last attempt to court their mother. Jungdae runs a quick hand through her messy pixie cut, glad for the lack of time needed to style her hair, and pockets her phone and motorbike keys.

Making a quick pitstop in the kitchen to grab a few bread rolls and a bottle of water, Jungdae takes stock of her belongings one last time before deeming herself ready to leave the house. She pads out the front door, Keds in hand, and slips them on after she closes and locks the door.

The bike is a bit damp from last night’s slight mist, but Jungdae just wipes the seat and the handles off with her palm and shoves on her helmet. She kicks off the bike stand, starts the engine, and puts her bike into motion.

Delivery generally takes from an hour to three, depending on what she’s got to carry and how fast she works that day. Today, she manages to complete her delivery run in an hour and thirty minutes, and it’s not long before she’s riding down Cheonho Street beside the Children’s Grand Park on her way to Chanyeol-ahjussi’s place.

Jungdae’s a bit eager to see him again, even though she’s reluctant to admit it to herself because Ahjussi is just so _embarrassing_ , but she can’t help the finger tapping along her handlebars or the under-the-breath humming as she cruises down the road, zipping between cars. It’s not really a _crush_ , no matter what Jongyeon likes to say, but there’s also nothing _wrong_ with Ahjussi. Any girl would be lucky to have him.

Just. Jungdae can’t.

She shakes herself out of the sudden funk her thoughts turned her towards, and forces her face into a bright grin, even though it’s shielded by her visor and no one can actually see her trying to pretend she’s happy about things, but whatever. She’s _happy_ : she’s gonna go see Chanyeol-ahjussi and talk to him and play with his dog and be content with what she has because he’s her friend and she’s lucky enough to even have this much.

The grin stays in place.

**-**

Monggu starts barking excitedly before Jungdae even brings the motorbike to a halt and cuts off the engine. She laughs under her breath, and hops off the bike, propping the stand, and pulls off the helmet. Her hair’s flattened considerably under the weight of the helmet during her run, and she runs her fingers through the strands with a pout, trying her best to aerate her hair with just her hands. She can hear the loud laughter from Chanyeol-ahjussi getting closer to the gate, paired with the continued barks from an equally-happy Monggu, and runs her fingers through her hair faster, a touch more desperate to get her bangs to flop just right and the back of her hair to stay put where she wants it to.

The fence door swings open, and Jungdae takes her hand away and hides it behind her back along with her helmet just in time. Chanyeol-ahjussi bounds out, his bow-legged stride crossing the few meters of distance between them in mere seconds, Monggu already outpacing him and reaching Jungdae with an excited expression and glimmering eyes.

“Morning, Jungdae,” Chanyeol greets, his abnormally toothy smile already stretched across his face. “You’re here rather early.” He props his hands against his hips, clad in a light plaid shirt and white tank and his regular pair of stone-washed jeans.

Jungdae doesn’t blush, thanks to her stern control over her body, but it still takes her a moment to respond back, too taken aback with embarrassment. She ruffles Monggu’s head, keeping her eyes trained steadily on the dog while she replies. “Well, you know me. Just can’t stay away too long from my best buddy here.”

Chanyeol lets out a quick snort, and folds his arms over. Jungdae peeks at them from under her lashes, and has to look away when she finds herself a little too transfixed with the firm swell of his forearms. “Well, now my feelings are hurt. I thought you came here to see me too.”

Jungdae giggles, too quick to hold back, and brings up a slightly curled hand to hide the fond smile on her lips. “I’m only here for Monggu. But seeing Ahjussi’s a nice bonus, I guess,” she teases, crinkling her eyes in jest.

Chanyeol pouts exaggeratedly and harrumphs, ignoring the happy _thump_ of his dog’s wagging tail. “Then, I guess I’ll eat all the popsicles I bought for us since you didn’t come here to spend time with _me_. I hope you and Monggu have a good life together,” he says with an upturned nose and starts to walk back to the house slowly. Monggu perks up and follows though, ruining the dramatic effect, and Jungdae giggles again, this time freely laughing into her hand before running up to catch him.

“Don’t be like that, Ahjussi. Especially not when my popsicles are on the line,” she says mock-seriously, lightly grasping at a sleeve. Her grip is steady, but her heart’s already racing, galloping away into the sun from the sudden contact. She smiles pleasantly, and berates herself for getting this worked up over just touching Chanyeol’s arm—not even his arm, his _sleeve_.

Chanyeol doesn’t notice. He pouts even bigger, but lets Jungdae steer him towards the fence door leading into the backyard, waiting for Monggu to climb through before latching the door shut. “Your priorities hurt me deeply, Jungdae. I may never recover.”

“As long as I get my popsicles,”Jungdae replies with a wink, breaking Chanyeol’s somber expression instantly. He laughs and knocks shoulders with her, unaware of the sudden windedness that hits her in the chest, and curls his arm around her shoulders immediately after.

“Ah, Jungdae, always a pleasure. You keep my ego in check, you know,” he says humorously, leaning his head down conspiratorially. “All my underlings at work like to pamper me, doing all the things I say and treating me like their favorite hyung, but you, oh no, you just love tearing me down. Keeping me firmly planted on the ground and all. Thank you for doing that, really.”

Jungdae finds it hard to swallow, mouth suddenly bone dry with self-consciousness. Her cheeks are burning, everything inside is burning up, to be honest, like a sun going into supernova at his words, but she chokes them out with a shaky smile, praying her expression doesn’t look too adoring.

“That’s me, it’s what I’m good for,” she replies back lamely. Chanyeol grins, sliding his lips upward, and squeezes her shoulders affectionately before letting go and heading towards the back door of his house.

“More people should have friends like you. You’re a real treasure.”

Jungdae is _glowing_.

**-**

They sit on the backs of the stone lions Chanyeol has bracketing either side of the back door steps, each leisurely eating the cola pops that Chanyeol said he’d bought in a fit of pique the other day after a frustrating day in the studio. Monggu lays on the grass, body sprawled on his side, tongue lolling out, bathing in the friendly sun.

Jungdae kicks her legs out in a gentle swing while the cola pop melts sweetly on her tongue, and sneaks furtive glances at Chanyeol, who seems intent on finishing his popsicle without any drippage on himself. The dip in between his brows is oddly endearing, and Jungdae wrenches her eyes away when she accidentally bangs the inside of her ankle against the stone lion. The tip of her cola pop gives under the grimace that spreads on her face, and she lolls the ice pop bit around in her mouth before chewing it down to melt it faster.

“So, Jungdae, how’s work at the cafe going?” Chanyeol says casually, lifting his eyes to her, flicking an empty popsicle stick in her direction. “Is Baekhyun treating you any better these days?”

She grimaces again, not even bothering to hide it, and scratches the side of her head as she thinks of a polite response. Chanyeol notices, though, and laughs a little, eyes creasing in understanding.

“Still a little shit, huh?” Jungdae nods resignedly and bites down another bit of her ice pop, lips pursing in an involuntary pout. Chanyeol shakes his head in fond exasperation, sympathetic smile on his face. “It’s hard to shake old habits, I guess.”

“He’s _twenty-five_ , Ahjussi, don’t make excuses for him,” Jungdae says with an eye-roll, wagging her half-eaten popsicle at him. “This is the kind of thing that lets him get away with that kind of behavior.” She pauses, but allows graciously, “But he’s very dependable when it counts."

Chanyeol snickers, and rests his chin on his stone lion’s mane, turning so that he’s facing her. “Sometimes, I forget how young you guys really are—or rather, I forget how old _I_ am; at this point in my life, I think the only things I look for in my bosses is just patience and a reasonable paycheck.”

Jungdae makes a face. “You talk like you’re fifty, Ahjussi, and already halfway in your grave.”

Chanyeol laughs again and raises his hand in surrender. He tilts his head so that the side of his face lies completely against the stone head, and levels Jungdae with an even look, albeit sideways.

“Well, my dear young friend, how would you like to accompany this dying old man to a party this Saturday? Help guide my feeble steps around so I don’t lose face with the other young hip kids,” he says with a smile.

Her heart’s pounding like a goddamn basketball in a match during a desperate scramble, all uneven and sideways in her ribcage. She opens her mouth to reply, but barely a squeak comes out—which is good because she’d rather die than squeak in response to a date offering. Her popsicle’s dripping down her hand, all but forgotten, and Monggu’s perking up his head a little, eyes casually eyeing the dark droplets of sugar water.

“I must be really out with the times, huh? Do you young folk not go out to parties anymore?” Chanyeol jokes after a minute of silence, a half-hearted smile on his face inviting her to join in. 

“No!” Jungdae blurts out, startling them both and Monggu, who jerks up. Chanyeol’s eyebrows rise, and Jungdae hastily throws up her hands, as if to physically hold him back from jumping to the wrong conclusion. “N-no, I mean, I’d love to go!”

“You do? You sure? It’s just a gallery opening my friend’s doing, you don’t have to come,” Chanyeol presses, both a little relieved and skeptic. 

Jungdae nods, remembering at last minute to keep her excitement on the down-low, and smiles reassuringly. “Yes, of course. Ahjussi’s my friend, why wouldn’t I want to go?”

The resounding grin that stretches across Chanyeol’s face is blinding, and Jungdae’s fingers twitch in effort to hold back from cheesily shielding herself. 

“You’re the best, Jungdae. Thank you for humoring this old ahjussi. I’ll come by and pick you up around 2, okay?” Chanyeol ducks his head down, smiling down at his lap, and Jungdae is struck with the sudden notion that Chanyeol must’ve been really worried about this opening on Saturday because he actually willingly called himself ahjussi. She frowns now, biting her lip a bit, and drops off from the lion, padding softly over to Chanyeol.

“Ahjussi, is this….” She hesitates over her words, both a little uncertain about the propriety of her following words and a little annoyed with herself for wanting to know

He looks up. “Hm?”

“...Is this about Miss A?” She regrets her words the moment they leave her lips and the smile on Chanyeol’s face dies away. “You know what, never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“No. No, it’s okay,” Chanyeol says, forcing a painful-looking grin on his face. “It’s uh, yeah, it’s Miss A’s gallery opening. Gonna go show her some support for her comeback show here at home.”

Jungdae doesn’t know how to respond, can barely keep the crestfallen expression that threatens to draw her eyebrows together away from her face, but she places a cautious hand on Chanyeol’s clenched fists and squeezes lightly.

“I’ll _definitely_ be there,” Jungdae promises. “You can count on me.”

* * *

Business is a little slow at the moment, so Jungdae sets her mop against the unseated countertop and hops onto one of the bar stools.

“Hyung,” she calls out, catching Minseok’s attention. He looks up from the latte he’s pouring and turns his head to pinpoint her location. “Can you pour me a cup of cold water when you’re done?”

He smiles and nods, and finishes the drink in hand, dipping the milk in deep enough into the crema to create several white blobs of milk before dragging the stream upward to create a rosetta image in the foam. Setting the cup gently down on the plate, he gestures for Jungdae to bring it to the customer on the table to the far left of the store, by the windows, and she hops off the stool to serve the girl.

When she comes back, a tall glass of square ice cubes and water sits on top of a patterned coaster, and Minseok’s dutifully wiping down the countertop. She beams and sits back on the stool, drawing in the glass for a sip.

“Thanks, hyung!” She takes a bigger gulp now, emptying the glass before setting it down firmly, wiping away at her lips with the back of her hand. “So, how’s your day been?”

Minseok quirks an eyebrow up, and throws the rag in his hand into the sink, and leans up against the counter from the other side. “Well, so far, I’ve made at least four caffe lattes, three mochas, a couple of caffe macchiatos, and a nice flat white for an elderly old woman a couple of hours ago. So, not too busy,” he says, ticking off his fingers in count. “How about you? How’re you holding up?”

Jungdae huffs and sets her chin down against the counter, letting her arms hang limply. “Baekhyun-hyung’s been on my ass all morning. Made me clean out the toilets twice, plus haul around a couple of the five-kilo Colombian beans out of storage just because he thought it felt _too_ crowded in there.” She blows out her breath exasperatedly, huffing upward so that her bangs would flutter a little into the breeze, and drops her head against the counter. “He’s usually tolerable enough, but today he’s just been a little too much to swallow.”

Lu Han pops his head out from the pass-through window connecting the bar to his kitchen, a horrible grin on his face. “Has the boss been pulling on your pigtails again? Does your scalp hurt?”

Minseok rolls his eyes and shoves a hand into Lu Han’s face, pushing him back from the window. “I honestly don’t know how so many girls find you attractive when you’re literally a five-year-old who likes to make fart jokes all the time,” he mutters, sharing a look with a giggling Jungdae.

“It’s false advertising,” Jungdae agrees and lifting herself from the countertop to slouch over it instead. “His face just draws them in like flies, but it’s all a trap.”

“I resent that! My personality is just as winsome as the rest of me,” Lu Han’s petulant voice shouts out from the kitchen.

“Keep telling yourself that. And I need another order of maple waffles for Table 14,” Minseok replies flippantly, tacking an order slip on the edge of the pass-through window. He turns back to Jungdae, winking at her, and starts up the espresso machine again, taking down another shot glass from the rack. “Where is our fearless leader anyway?”

“Helping Tao shift around the tables on the upstairs patio,” says Sehun coming down from the stairs. He fans himself with a menu in hand, a stack of them cradled in his other arm, and tosses the stack onto the counter unceremoniously. The other menu remains in his hand, flopping back and forth in its shiny plastic slip, providing more noise than wind.

“Ugh, seriously?” Jungdae groans, incredulous. “He just had me shuffle them around the patio this morning! What is he _doing_?”

“I’m trying to align our furniture around so that it’ll bring us in more customers, dear employee whose salary I control. Does that bother you?” replies the devil himself, before anyone can say anything. Jungdae shoots up from her chair, almost toppling herself over, and hastily stands, grabbing the mop handle back. Baekhyun lithely glides down the staircase, with a sweating Tao looming behind him a few steps up, and rounds about the counter to stare imperiously at his employees.

“Three weeks with Tao and me, and suddenly you’re an expert on feng shui?” says Lu Han, coming out of his kitchen, a plate of fresh waffles folded in half, sandwiching a honey sugar paste and dolloped with cream in his hands. He sets the plate down decisively on the counter and jerks his head at Tao. “Table 14, Taozi.”

Tao whines a little, but dutifully picks the plate up and sets in on the serving platter in his hand and goes into the cafe front. Baekhyun lazily watches Tao’s retreating back before turning his attention back to the rest of the group.

“I’m a jack of many trades,” he says airily, fluttering a hand delicately. “I pick up things really fast.”

“Like herpes, maybe,” Lu Han mutters to himself, which both Jungdae and Minseok catch and have to hold in matching snickers from. He smiles sarcastically at Baekhyun and shuffles back into the kitchen, content to put as much distance between them as possible. He calls out from the open space, loud enough so that Baekhyun can hear this time. “Well, I hope you rearranged it so that cute girls actually come and visit this place.”

“Way harsh, man, way harsh,” Sehun says, shaking his head sadly. Baekhyun rolls his eyes and adjusts the suit vest around his waist, smoothing out the wrinkles on his button-down.

“Like they’d even go near your disease-ridden shrimp dick,” Baekhyun retorts, digging out his cufflinks from his pant pocket and snapping them back into his cuffs. “You should be lucky any woman on this earth can actually tolerate you enough to be in your presence for an extended period of time.”

Jungdae rolls her eyes, sharing a look with an amused Minseok, before Baekhyun sets his sights on her, eyebrows raised and an irritating smirk on his face.

“And, why is my favorite employee standing here without any work to do?” Jungdae cringes, clutching her mop like a flimsy shield, and stammers for a response.

“I-I’m, uh, I’m….” She trails off, wincing, before weakly continuing with the only excuse that’s rattling around in her brain right now, “...sweeping?” Beside her, Sehun facepalms and Minseok snickers, plating a hot Americano and nudging Sehun across the counter to send it out.

Baekhyun nods in an exaggerated manner, pulling his mouth up in a clownish smile. “Sweeping, of course, I see.” His eyes curl upward into crescents, but Jungdae feels no bit of reassurance. “That’s why the cafe is still so dusty, right? And why all my tables are still uncleared?”

“I was working on it!” Jungdae protests in defense, blunt nails digging into the mop handle. Baekhyun leans in at her, looming comically over her, even though she has a few centimeters on him. She leans away, scrunching in her brows. “And I mopped these floors last night!”

Baekhyun bares his teeth, and knocks his knuckles against her chest dismissively. “Then mop them again, kid. This time, I wanna see my face in these floors.” He nods at Minseok and heads back upstairs, leaving a frozen Jungdae and an exasperated Minseok behind.

Tao bounds back towards them just then, having caught the last of the exchange between Baekhyun and Jungdae, and quickly grabs Jungdae’s shoulders, ducking his head down to meet her eyes worriedly. “Noo—hyung! Hyung, did he touch you? Did Baekhyun hyung hurt you? Are you okay?”

Still reeling from the fact that Baekhyun fucking tapped against her boobs—feeling simultaneously relieved that her bindings were sufficient enough and horrified that they were felt up—Jungdae lets herself be shook like a rag doll under Tao’s heavy-handed concern. Minseok has to separate them in the end, peeling Tao’s hands away, before Jungdae snaps back and suddenly clutches the mop that’s still in her hand to her chest.

“I’m gonna grind that little bastard’s face against these floorboards if he wants to see his face so badly,” she spits out, startling her friends, and stomps away, leaving them behind bemused.

“...But, is he alright, though?” Tao asks after a moment, staring after her. Minseok laughs and claps him on the shoulders.

“You’ll understand when you’re older, Tao.”

* * *

The lipstick feels particularly uncomfortable on her lips, and Jungdae has to remind herself not to lick over it nervously because the past two times have already showed her that lipstick, despite its pretty color, does not actually taste good. Her eyebrow twitches up involuntarily at the remembered taste, and Jongyeon grunts, swatting at her shoulder to stop moving.

“Do I look pretty yet?” Jungdae asks for the third time, already antsy in her stool. Jongyeon huffs and steps away, and points the eyebrow pencil at her menacingly.

“Unnie, if you don’t stop asking me that question—and if you don’t stop moving—I’m gonna poke you in the eye and call it a day. The newest episode of Anpanman is supposed to be airing today,” Jongyeon says, irritated. Jungdae huffs, blowing out her bangs, and Jongyeon swats her again. “And stop blowing at your bangs! You’re gonna ruin my hard work!”

“It feels weird though,” Jungdae whines. “It feels like you caked on layers of stuff on my cheeks!”

Their mother, lounging on the couch and absentmindedly watching TV, arches out her neck and takes a long look at Jungdae and Jongyeon, who sit cross-legged on the floor next to the coffee table. “I think you look cute, Jungdae. Sweeter than usual.”

Jungdae grabs for the pocket mirror laying open on the table while Jongyeon smirks proudly, and gapes when she sees her reflection. “Maybe because Jongyeon practically painted my face red with blush! I look like an apple!”

“...A delicious one, though,” their mother considers. “Your young man is going to find you darling.”

“ _I look like an apple_ , mom, please! Like one of those candy-red apples that Jongyeon always gets—were you thinking with your stomach again, Jongyeon, I swear to god,” Jungdae says accusingly, narrowing her sooty eyes at her sister.

Jongyeon jabs the eyebrow pencil at her again. “Unnie, I read through all the latest fashion magazines; trust me, this look is in-season right now, relax.” Their mother shifts back on the couch and waves a hand.

“Let your sister help you, dear. You know she has more experience with this than you.”

Jungdae grumbles, pulling at the uncomfortable dress her sister shoved on her, and lifts her hand to scratch at her face before Jongyeon slaps it away. “Just because a working girl doesn’t have time to keep up with the latest fashion trends. You don’t even _wear_ makeup, Jongyeon, how do you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m lazy, not inept, unnie,” Jongyeon says, rolling her eyes. “I mean, I admit I don’t have the makeup routine of an idol, but I know more than you, at least. Now shut up and let me finish drawing in your eyebrows.”

“There is so much regret in my body right now,” Jungdae moans, but sits back for her sister to finish.

**-**

Chanyeol’s just _staring_ at her. It’s unnerving. Jungdae forces a smile on her face, even though she’s sure her discomfort is blatantly obvious. She clutches at the edge of her dress, and draws the sheer cardigan that her sister lent her close to her body, hoping she could hide behind it and pretend like this isn’t happening to her right now. Her cheeks are bright red, probably, even through the ten pounds of makeup; they feel hot enough to be.

He’s still staring.

“Uhm, so...” Jungdae prompts, hoping to kick Chanyeol out of his daze. She smoothes down her heavily-gelled hair, and hides the subsequent greasy hand behind her back. “How—how do I look?”

There’s still no answer. Jungdae frowns now, snapping her fingers in front of Chanyeol’s face, and he reels back, startled from the sudden movement. He blinks, and Jungdae exhales quietly in relief.

And then, Chanyeol starts giggling.

Jungdae feels her chest sinking rapidly, the original mess of butterflies in her stomach melting into the biggest well of embarrassment; Cinderella’s hopes were deflating before she even got the chance to leave on her pumpkin carriage. Chanyeol’s still laughing, and Jungdae wants to take off this uncomfortable costume and scrub off all her clown-makeup and curl back up in her bed.

“Okay, you’ve had your fun, Ahjussi,” she bites out, baring her teeth. She curls her arms around herself, gripping her sides tightly. “I’m going home now. Have fun at your party alone.”

That stops Chanyeol in his tracks immediately. “Wh—no, no, Jungdae, please, I wasn’t—I wasn’t laughing… at… you….” Jungdae levels him with an unimpressed stare.

“If you say you’re laughing _with_ me, I’m going to kick you in the balls and possibly break your jaw,” she warns, clenching up a fist. “I still haven’t decided.”

Chanyeol winces and holds up his hands. “Okay, okay, this looks bad, I’m sorry. I really wasn’t trying to laugh at you or anything—you look cute!”

“ _Cute_. That’s why you kept laughing at me for a straight minute, okay, Ahjussi, that’s great to know. You’re just digging yourself into a bigger hole,” Jungdae says, fixing a sarcastic smile on her face. Still, her feet remain firmly planted, and while her brain’s screaming at her to already leave, her heart’s stupidly still waiting for Chanyeol to say something to make it better.

He winces again, and steps up to her, hands hesitating over her shoulders before landing softly over them, curling his fingers over the round of her bared shoulders. She tries her best not to jerk away from the touch, especially since he deliberately moved slowly enough that she’d have time to move away if she didn’t want him near, but still. His hands are like a furnace against her skin, searing into her sense memory, no matter how much she’d rather it not.

“I sincerely hope you know what you’re doing right now,” Jungdae says sternly, raising her eyebrows and lifting her own hands to cover over Chanyeol’s, ready to push them off at a second’s notice. Chanyeol laughs, but keeps his hands on her, thumbs tracing dainty patterns over the dip under her shoulder bone. Her eyebrows rise higher at this, her expression every bit the sarcastic and unimpressed rock that she pretends to be every day, but her insides twisting into complicated and unpleasant knots. “You giving me a massage as an apology, or this gonna get ugly?”

“I’m sorry I laughed at you,” Chanyeol says, cutting off Jungdae’s forced pleasantness. “I hurt your feelings, and that was wrong. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable or hurt; I thought you looked cute. But that was still wrong of me. I’m sorry.” He furrows his brows, round puppy eyes that stare down at her, and Jungdae is a goddamn _idiot_ , but she’s always been too easy for this trick. She could practically see floppy dog ears hanging sadly down against Chanyeol’s head, matching his hangdog expression, and her resolve crumbles in milliseconds.

“ _God_ , I hate it when you pull the puppy eyes on me,” she whines, breaking away and covering her face to hide the rising blush. She misses the relieved smile that breaks across Chanyeol’s face, but when she looks back up, he’s scratching his scalp sheepishly, a hand on his hip.

“I’m glad those staring contests with Monggu paid off, then,” he jokes, and Jungdae lets out a scoff, punching him in the shoulder for the lame joke. “But uh, Jungdae, I really am sorry. It won’t happen again.”

_You sap_ , her brain says as her heart leaps a little, but Jungdae outwardly just laughs again and hits him again, letting out a bit of frustration under the guise of playfulness. “Whatever, Ahjussi, you’re still gonna pay for this later, but I accept your apology for now.” She pulls out her phone to check the time. “We have to go, though, if we want to make your friend’s opening on time.”

Chanyeol opens his mouth in realization, and reflexively sticks out his index finger. “Oh, that’s right. The opening.”

“Don’t tell me you forgot, Ahjussi, _please_ ,” Jungdae huffs, exasperated, and starts shuffling Chanyeol to his car. “Were you seriously that distracted?”

“Well, I can’t help it, you just look so _cute_ ,” Chanyeol says, grinning, and Jungdae stumbles in her steps before recovering, her face burning red now.

“Oh my god, shut up before I punch you,” she hisses, pushing him to the door of the driver’s seat and rounds the car to the passenger seat.

“But, you are! So cute! Like a candy apple,” he teases as he slides into the car and closes the door after him. Jungdae follows suit, and adjusts her dress before closing the door and responding. “I could just _eat_ you.”

“I’m going to push you out of this car,” Jungdae mutters. “Drive.”

**-**

The gallery opening is held downstairs in one of the recently-cropped-up gallery spaces around Hyoja-dong, a place Jungdae rarely ever went, much less art openings in general. The space seemed already packed with people, all well-dressed and in significantly fancier clothing than her. Even Chanyeol is in a form-fitting suit, with cufflinks and blue tie, and topped off with slicked-back hair and shiny oxfords. Beside him, Jungdae feels homely, shabbily dressed in a pair of flats and a summer dress that her sister had forced upon her, and a silly cardigan to go over the mess. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun, loose enough to be falling out since her strands weren’t even long enough to hold it in shape.

Chanyeol squeezes her arm, breaking her away from her thoughts, and she turns to him with a question on her lips. “Relax, Jungdae. It’s just a party, like any other party.”

Jungdae snorts. “Ahjussi, the last ‘party’ I went to was when I was in high school and celebrating my middle school teacher’s retirement. And let me tell you, that was far different from what’s happening here right now.”

“...Fair enough,” Chanyeol concedes, and loops his arm around her waist suddenly, drawing her close. “Then, pretend you’re on a secret mission and you’re a super secret spy undercover—”

“Ahjussi, please tell me you weren’t marathoning IRIS before you came here,” Jungdae interrupts, facepalming. The embarrassed silence besides her answers the question for her, and she breathes out a laugh. “I honestly find it hard to believe you’re actually the older one here.”

Chanyeol chuckles and squeezes her waist. “But, it made you relax, didn’t it?”

Jungdae’s thankful for the dimmed lighting because her cheeks must be flaming right now. She stutters a response, but Chanyeol’s attention is drawn away by a woman in a black dress chatting near one of the bigger pieces of art by the spotlight. He stops in his tracks suddenly, arm drawing away, and Jungdae stops as well, curious and maybe a little disappointed that he isn’t holding her anymore. She looks up at his face, and then in the direction of his stare.

“Ahjussi?” she prompts, shaking him by the sleeve a little. Chanyeol breaks his gaze, and takes a last glance before turning back to Jungdae.

“Sorry, Jungdae, ah, I need to, uh, go to the bathroom real quick. Do you mind waiting for me?” he asks, pulling his lips up in a sheepish grin. Jungdae shakes her head and waves him to go.

“That’s fine, I’ll just go look at the paintings,” she assures him, assessing his odd behavior. “Remember to wash your hands before you come back out.”

He blanches and groans at that. “Jungdae, please, I’m not a heathen.”

She shrugs, grinning, and Chanyeol matches her, this time a genuine laugh. “I work with a bunch of grubby boys all day-- trust me, it’s not an unfounded accusation.”

“I promise, I’ll wash my hands. I’ll even come out with my hands wet to show you,” Chanyeol says, holding out his hands and waggling his fingers in her face. Jungdae laughs and slaps them away.

“Go do your business. I’ll be enjoying the pretty art. Maybe steal a kebab from the food table too.” Chanyeol salutes and walks away, taking one last glance over his shoulder. Jungdae waves at him and walks further into the space, drawing her cardigan in around her.

The art pieces are large canvas, all at least 100 by 75 centimeters or above, and each with incredibly ornate and detailed flowerscapes painted on, with varying textured surfaces. She walks by each one of them relatively closely, enough to note the incredible amount of detail painted into each piece, but the one that stands out to her the most is the centerpiece of the room, a mammoth of a canvas, stretching across the length of a single wall. It’s an entire flower garden of sorts, with larger-than-life flowers perforating the surface and painted in vibrantly-stained colors, and dotted with strange shimmery textures.

Jungdae steps as close as she possibly can without actually pressing her nose against the painting, and stares down at the sparkliness. The surfaces are smooth, but translucent, with faded shades of the rainbow that appear whenever she twists her head here and there. Almost like—

“It’s nacre,” says an amused voice beside her. Jungdae jerks away, startled, and meets eyes with a smiling woman, her heart-shaped lips twisted upward in a friendly smile.

“N-nacre?” Jungdae parrots. The woman nods and crosses her arms, drawing attention to the clean-cut black shift she’s wearing, the same one that the woman Chanyeol had been staring at was wearing. Jungdae has a bad feeling about this.

“More commonly known as mother-of-pearl, if that helps.” The woman’s doe-eyes crinkle. “It’s actually one of my signatures, and the theme of this show. But very few people have noticed; I’m glad you did, though.” She holds her hand out, and Jungdae hesitantly takes it. “I’m Do Kyungsoon, the artist of this show. It’s nice to meet you.”

Do Kyungsoon, the brilliant up-and-coming artist that Tao couldn’t stop gushing about at the cafe. Do Kyungsoon, the old friend that Byun Baekhyun kept disappearing off from his post at the cafe to go visit. Do Kyungsoon, the girl that had taken Chanyeol’s heart and left a gushing hole after she’d left. Do Kyungsoon, Miss A.

In her mind, Jungdae had already painted Miss A as a foul overly made-up woman, with evil eyes, lizard tongue and a demeanour that screamed _villain_ the moment you met her. She’d pictured meeting her, going up to the girl and punching her straight in the face for breaking Chanyeol’s heart, and leaving, feeling triumphant and having vanquished the monster. But, in reality, Do Kyungsoon just seemed...human. Friendly and welcoming, and not an inch of her that even hinted at anything beyond even more kindness.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Jungdae says, shaking her hand.

Oh, boy.

 

**End Episode Five**

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

Preview:  
_Episode Six:_ **The Sixth Cup**

Chanyeol’s holding onto Jungdae’s waist almost painfully tight, and on any other day, Jungdae might be jumping up and down from the joy, but right now, he’s digging his fucking fingers into her flesh. She subtly steps on his foot and smiles sharply, grinding her heel into his toes, and Chanyeol almost yelps before withdrawing his fingers and leveling her with a pouting expression.

In front of them, Kyungsoon’s trying her best to maintain space from Baekhyun, who’s staring dreamily at her and clutching her hands in his and gushing his praises for her show. Jungdae’s glad Chanyeol managed to swipe a wide-brimmed hat to hide her face from him, but still, she hides behind Chanyeol a little, on edge. She feels sorry for Kyungsoon, though, seeing how clearly uncomfortable she is with Baekhyun’s attentions, but she can’t risk drawing attention to herself instead.

“So, uh, Chanyeol, it’s been a while, right?” Kyungsoon says, finally giving up and shoving Baekhyun away with an arm. She glares at Baekhyun, who pouts but subsides, crossing his arms in a sulk, before gracing Chanyeol with a warm smile. “Thanks for coming to my show. It means a lot.”

“Uh, yeah. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, you know.” Chanyeol pauses, arm spasming around Jungdae’s waist, and she lays a careful hand on it. “You...you look good, Kyungsoon-ah.”

Kyungsoon’s eyes soften, and her smile mellows into something more intimate. “You too, Chanyeol.”

Jungdae feels like throwing up.

**Author's Note:**

> written for [chinguline](http://chinguline.livejournal.com/), the chinguline exchange, in summer 2014 for the prompt: _coffee prince au where chen is eunchan and chanyeol is hansung where they ended being together instead of the normal plot (plus baekhyun as hankyul and kyungsoo as yoojoo)_. ao3 mirror to [lj post](http://ventice.livejournal.com/8191.html).
> 
> after giving this fic some heavy consideration, i ended up actually liking it in the end, so i thought it deserved to be put up on ao3. this was my first time writing genderswitch, and it was clearly very difficult to maintain personalities while also trying to fulfill the requester's prompt, but i did my best.
> 
> i don't write for exo fandom anymore, if you couldn't tell, but i've been going through my old fics and wanted to put up some of the ones i find myself enjoying more now that i've been separated from them for a while.


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